Summer One Shots - Hobbit
by MissMandS
Summary: A series of one shots and short stories centered on the Hobbit. There will be alternate universes, character studies, rare pairings, femslash, slash, 5 1 things and really whatever I can think of. If there is a pairing you would like to see then please just let me know!
1. Of Milk and Dwobbits

Warnings: None

Pairing: Bilbo/Dis

Additional Tags: AU, Female Bilbo, established relationship, baby Fili and Kili.

* * *

Fili enjoys living with Bilbo. There are soft beds, clean sheets and warm, heavy blankets to ward off the chill of winter; not to mention the fireplace that's always going. Bilbo has an endless library of books, some of them in strange languages and others full of stories about heroes, dashing knights who save princesses and princes and slay dragons. And his mother and little brother are here with him, his mother with her own bed and Kili with a crib that Bilbo says used to be hers.

Bilbo makes his mother smile a lot too. Fili notices her smiling whenever Bilbo makes breakfast for them, when Bilbo squeezes her around the middle or lays a hand down on top of hers. There are moments too (usually when he's supposed to be sleeping) that he can see their faces close together and their lips just almost touching. Sometimes in those moments Bilbo's hands wander towards his mother's hair but never touch it, stopping just before she does. But his mother smiles still so Fili lets it happen.

The only thing that really bothers him is the fact that Bilbo doesn't feed Kili right. Kili is still too small for him to play with and most of the time he cries. But when he isn't it's usually because Fili is playing with him or Bilbo and his mother are putting something into his mouth. Fili watches now as Dís pours some milk into a bottle, handing it over to Bilbo who attempts in vain to make his brother stop crying. Fili can remember, just barely his mother feeding him. It was never from a bottle though and never milk that Bilbo says comes from a nanny. There was bare skin and warm milk in his mouth, one hand resting on her chest or clutching her dress in his memories of food. No, there was never a bottle.

"Amad how come you aren't feeding Kee?" Dís looks at him with raised brows, one hand still clutching the pitcher full of milk.

"Well my jewel Bilbo and I take turns feeding your brother. I did the last one so Bilbo is doing this one," Fili wonders in that moment if grownups have any idea how frustrating they can be as he stands up and walks to her, pulling on her until she finally kneels down. "Yes my jewel?"

"How come you're not feeding him from there?" Fili pokes against her chest, frowning as he tries to remember if this was really how he was fed. There is a small giggle from Bilbo's direction but then she sobers up and Fili is grateful because really, this is no laughing matter. He wants for Kili to have the best food and not something from a nanny.

"I fed you like that, both of you like that. But then my body got really tired and…I could not feed either of you like that." Dís says carefully.

"It happens whenever you have a baby Fili, the milk that you and Kili used to drink. This kind of milk comes from a goat." Bilbo says and lifts the now empty bottle from his mouth. Fili considers their words, thinking of yet another baby. He likes Kili well enough. Kili is soft and with the milk his thighs are fattening up making him squishy. And he had to wait so long for Kili that surely by the time this new baby comes he will be a grown up. It's so very simple and these grownups have gone about it all wrong.

"Okay have a baby with amad, Bilbo." He stares at the rolls spilling over Bilbo's waist, thinks of her squishiness whenever she hugs him. Maybe she has a baby in there already! Her tummy is kind of round and makes a lot of noises like amad's did when she had Kili. She certainly eats a lot like amad did and it's always desserts like amad would eat. Fili does a quick glance under the table and nods, at her swollen looking feet. Yes, he's most definitely going to have a baby brother or sister. As he walks away he decides that the baby will be called a dwobbit.

* * *

I have decided that for summer I want to write one shots for various fandoms of mine. Being Human, Almighty Johnsons, Pushing Daises, the Hobbit...Prompts are absolutely welcome! I'll be writing these one shots up until I go back to school for fall classes on August 17th.

Some may turn into full stories.


	2. Decent Human Beings

Warning: Referenced transphobia

Pairing: Bilbo/Bofur

Additional Tags: Modern day au, trans female character, established relationship.

* * *

Bilbo's mouth works soundlessly as he stares at the very flat chest that Bofur is hurriedly attempting to cover up. Her hands are shaking as she struggles with the buttons, her eyes wide as she looks from Bilbo to her lap.

"Please, please just let me explain. Or I'll leave and please Bilbo…Just please." Bofur is panicking now, her eyes filling up with tears as Bilbo slips off the couch. He takes a small step away from her and with a deep breath puts his hands on her shoulders. Bilbo closes his eyes and tries to ignore the shaking beneath his hands.

"Take a deep breath, button up your shirt then come into the kitchen and we'll talk. I'm going to make us some tea." Bilbo slips his hands away from her shoulders slowly, walking towards the kitchen. This he was not expecting. It's true with Bofur he's never quite sure what to expect but this, he wasn't prepared for. Bilbo pauses in the doorway, listening to the still shaky breaths of Bofur as he goes to make the tea.

The kettle is beginning to whistle when Bofur leans against the doorway, red nosed and puffy eyed. She fiddles with the bottom of her shirt, watching as Bilbo moves around the kitchen, pouring tea into a mug and then hot chocolate into another which he hands to Bofur. Her lips twitch into an almost smile as she takes the cup, not quite meeting his eye.

"Is this your way of being nice to me before you kick me out?" There's no venom in her voice but it still stings.

"Do you think so little of me?" Bilbo asks quietly and Bofur's eyes fill with tears again as she looks down into her drink.

"No…I'm sorry, I'm just nervous…" Bilbo motions for her to sit down, grabbing a box of tissues and sliding them across the table. He sits down slowly, staring down into his tea as he contemplates how exactly he's supposed to start this. Bofur does it for him, sighing as she rolls the mug between her hands.

"Do ye want me to tell ye how…When I started identifying as female?"

"Do you want to?" Bofur's face starts to close off as she gnaws on her lower lip and chances a look up from her drink. Bofur gives a small shake of her head, scooting the chair away from the table ever so slightly.

"Well…I'm as nervous as you if that makes it any better. Would you like for me to drive you home?" Her nod is shallow, almost lost as she reaches up to wipe at her nose. Bilbo grabs the box of tissues, pushing them into her arms as he goes to grab his keys.

The ride to Bofur's house is a quiet one, the radio muted. The only sounds are Bilbo's fingers tapping against the steering wheel and Bofur's sniffles and occasional nose blow. As he comes to a stop outside of her house he pauses. Normally Bofur kisses his cheek and that turns into a few more kisses. But now she just looks ready to bolt, one hand on the seatbelt and the other one on the door handle.

"I need some time, if that's okay." Bilbo says quietly. Bofur's fingers tighten around the door handle and she sniffles hard, her lower lip quivering and threatening to give way to a sob.

"Is this a breakup?" Bofur's voice is so quiet he almost misses the question.

"It's not a breakup. I just need a little bit of time Bofur. I'll text you." The promise feels empty, even to him. Bofur doesn't even bother kissing his cheek before she hurries out of the car and into her house. Bilbo lingers in the driveway, waiting until she gets inside and the porch light turns off before finally he sighs and pulls out of her driveway.

* * *

There aren't any good morning texts or coffee the morning after. Bilbo lies in bed long after his alarm goes off and then finally rises from the bed, yanking a hoodie on over his head and ignoring the stain on his sweatpants as he walks his way to the library. He stands there in the doorway, looking at the bookshelves which seem to have grown in size and become taunting bullies as they tower over him. It takes five minutes of tapping his fingers against his arm, picking at stains on his sweats before finally he walks up to the librarian and asks if they have any books about gender dysphoria and being trans. If the librarian raises an eyebrow Bilbo doesn't care as he kindly returns a middle finger.

It takes him a week to text Bofur and invites her over. He spends a couple days ignoring the books until finally he breaks down and reads them, puts them down and returns time and time again. Then he texts Bofur and invites her over. There isn't exactly tea and hot chocolate and make out sessions on the couch this time.

They sit across from each other, Bofur tapping her fingers against the tabletop and Bilbo trying to find something that he can say to start off the conversation. It's Bofur who ends up doing it, clearing her throat roughly.

"So…Are ye going to ask me about my downstairs too?"

"Would you come up to me in the streets if we were not dating, if we were total strangers? We've never met each other before and ask what's between my legs?" Bofur's nose wrinkles but still she shakes her head. "Exactly. I won't ask about that. If I wouldn't answer it then I won't ask it." Bofur chews on the inside of her cheek and then finally, slowly uncrosses her arms from her chest.

"My brother Bombur says that I'm toying with life, with God's way and that I'm not supposed to be doing this. That it's wrong." Bilbo tries very hard not to glance towards the books, hidden partly behind his couch and underneath blankets.

"If there is a god then I'm pretty sure they have to love everyone. Am I toying with my body, with my skin whenever I get tattooed? Am I playing god in my life? Is it wrong for me to be who I am because it is not what someone else wants me to be?" Bofur's lips twitch into an almost smile as she stares at him, tongue moving across her teeth and then over her lips as she asks.

"And what do you want to be?"

"While I would love to be a unicorn I'm settling for being a decent human being. Well as decent as I can get. Is it decent of me to ask you out on a date?" Bofur's tongue flicks out again, over teeth and then tongue as she nods.

"Long as we get to be unicorns on said date."

"We can always be unicorns—together." Bilbo says and does not try to fight a smile as this time she reaches across the table and takes his hand, one foot kicking his knee as she smiles a unicorn like smile.

* * *

I've never understood why some people cannot accept the fact that not everyone is the same.

Becoming the person you're meant to be does not change them. They are still a human being. I can't remember a time growing up that my parents ever said the words gay or trans around my siblings and I. There's a moment I remember from catholic school in which a music teacher read the word gay in a song and kids started laughing.

Still it made no sense to me until finally I learned it for myself. We don't choose who we fall in love with, how we're born. It happens. It happens and we have no control of that. We love who we love. And we all deserve to be in the body's hat we love and that makes us happy. We all deserve to be who we want to be and be happy and respected. Because we are human beings and we deserve the same right that everyone has to be loved and happy, dammit. You are loved, you are beautiful. -

Taylor

Guest: I can write some Smaugbo for you. It's not a pairing I really ship and haven't written anything for them before but I will do my best. As for the second one I've never read the Similarrion and do not have access to it. So I will be unable to do that one I'm afraid. I don't want to make anyone out of character or make mistakes with the timeline because I have not read it.


	3. Peonies

Warnings: None

Pairing: Bard/Lindir and some implied Bilbo/Dwalin

Additional Tags: Everyone lives nobody dies.

* * *

Lindir glances over the flowers, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considers all the options. The flowers are not as lovely as those in Rivendell, less flashy and lacking warm colors. He's been crouching down like this for nearly twenty minutes now, his knees aching and tingles moving through his thighs. The fact there is a dwarf behind him, leaning up against their axe and grumbling beneath their breath each time he reaches for a flower is not very reassuring.

"Dwalin leave him alone, I told him that he could pick any flowers he wants!" He does not see how the hobbit soothes the dwarf but hears a small mumble of 'stubborn dwarf' and then the soft smack of a kiss. Then the hobbit is next to him, dirt streaking across his face and the knees of his pants. "Have you found any that you like yet?"

"Your flowers are lovely; your entire garden is lovely. But none of these seem fit for a king…" Dwalin lets out a howl of laughter, only laughing harder whenever Bilbo throws a glare over his shoulder.

"I did not know that it was Thorin's heart you were hoping to win." Lindir nearly lets out a rather undignified snort at the thought of the dwarf king. He is…A decent sort as far as dwarves go, kingly. It never hurt a king to smile though in his opinion.

"No, no. It is not your king whose heart I am hoping to win. It is the other king…The king of Dale." Lindir tacks the last part on quietly, curling his toes in his boots. Understanding dawns on the hobbit's face and he nods, gesturing towards a group of flowers that vary in color and size.

"Bard does not see himself as a king. Peonies are the flowers of riches and honor. It's used in the Shire at weddings to wish couples happy marriage and good fortune together. And while Bard may not see himself as a king I happen to know that peonies are his favorite. And Dwalin if you do not stop laughing I won't make you any muffins tonight." It is enough to sober up the dwarf. The hobbit who now looks satisfied stands with a smile.

"Take as many as you like." He says again and this time takes the dwarf with him, their hands linked together. Lindir glances over the peonies and chews on his cheek. It does not seem like the kind of flower meant for a king. But still he plucks some, stopping time and time again to make sure that the colors match until finally his hands are full with a very tiny bouquet.

* * *

The first time he ever meets Bard is shortly after Thorin's coronation. Lindir had stood alongside his Lord Elrond and watched the dwarf's slight limp as he walked through the throne room, nodding at others. There had been a slight smirk on his face as he passed by Lindir and Elrond, one which he didn't understand and then he looked down. A small human child had attached herself to him, holding his hand and telling him how his purple robes were his favorite color. Despite Lindir's best attempts he could not get her to let go of his hand. The child kept talking and giggling until finally she turned with a screech towards Bard. The man's face was lined with worry, his hands clutching her tightly as he hauled her into his arms. Tilda had insisted that Bard and Lindir sit by each other and despite the pleading look he'd thrown at Elrond, Lindir found no assistance. Tilda had glued herself to his side for the remainder of the night as she forced him to answer all her questions about elves and himself.

It is Tilda now who answers the door, letting out a shriek of glee as she throws herself around Lindir's legs.

"Lindir you're back again! I told da you would come back, you always do." Five visits should not constitute this much glee in anyone in his opinion but Tilda disagrees. And so do her siblings it seems who each rush forward from their spots, Sigrid with a book and Bain with a weapon. Both items are dropped on the floor as they hug him and Lindir actually feels his spine relax as they tell him that they are happy to see him.

"I am happy to see you as well and Tilda elves always keep their promises, remember?" Tilda smiles up at him, eyes gleaming as she plucks one of the flowers from his hands and runs off.

"Tilda that was rude! Come back here, oh she's gone. Our da is outside Lindir and thank you." Sigrid grabs three of the flowers, leaving him with a very meager bouquet of two peonies. He looks at Bain and sighs when he notices the way that he grins at Lindir. Wordlessly he holds out of the peonies. Bain accepts it and without another word leads him out of the house and towards Bard who sits outside.

"I heard rumors that you were back for a visit. It would explain why the king under the mountain has looked so dour. " All the words in Lindir's throat catch and he finds that his mouth is suddenly so very dry. Bard is sitting outside with no shirt on. There are several scars on his back, covering his arms are some burns that look like they've not yet healed or never will. And Lindir tries hard not to imagine how warm his skin must be as he wordlessly holds out the flower.

"I had more but your children…They enjoy flowers." Lindir says quietly as the man stands up, stretching with a long sigh.

"You truly are something special Lindir. I have yet to see my children enjoy flowers." Bard says and the grin on his face is pure warmth as he presses a kiss to Lindir's cheek, fingers wrapping around the flower as he walks back inside. Lindir lingers as the door closes behind him, toes still curling tighter and tighter. He owes the hobbit thanks—after he rediscovers his ability to talk. Uncurling his toes Lindir turns towards the door with a smile, cheek burning as if he was the one who was sitting in the sun. He doesn't even reach the door when Tilda sprints out, grabbing his hand and insisting that he sit by da for dinner.

* * *

Probably nothing else for today, sorry. Leave me requests if you have them and I will get back to them as soon as I can.


	4. Cat and Mouse

Guest: I have already said it once...I have never read the Silmarillion and do not have access to it. Therefore to keep requesting things with characters from there is and for me to write stories for them is a pointless thing to do...I'm not trying to be rude but I've said it once before and do not want to keep getting requests for a book I have never read and do not have access to.

Pairing: Bilbo/Smaug

Rating: M

Warnings: Mildly dubious content.

* * *

It is all a part of a game for him, a game which he intends to win. Smaug lies beneath his bed of gold, nostrils flaring at the scent. He knows each scent that covers this room, how pungent they are, how each of his treasures smells. The gold is his favorite if anyone who entered lived long enough to ask him. It carries his scent, each piece rolling beneath him whenever he breathes, he moves, blinks. He is the one in control of the gold and treasures truly. He blinks, his breathing changes or he shudders and the gold quivers like it was a dwarf brave enough to steal from him. It has a sharp, metallic smell; filthy still with dwarf. And then the scent of the jewels, lighter but still sharp and pungent. This creature though is not exactly gold, not a gem or jewel.

It smells like flowers and crisp air, the grass of a rolling green hill and the fresh water that has been untouched by filth. It's a female reeking of dwarf. Fear rolls off her in waves, anxiety and the unsteady breaths of someone who knows just what lurks here. Yes, it's a game that he intends to win. For a long time he lies in wait and listens to the stumbling, to the unsure breathing and careless tossing of his treasures. Then he rises and the look on the creatures face when she sees him is truly a treasure indeed. She stumbles for her pocket, mouth gasping in a weak attempt to draw more air in.

"Do you think that the gold in your pocket will save you? Do you think there is any escape from me?" A flick of his tail and the gold goes sliding, nearly knocking the creature from her spot as she stumbles in an attempt to stay afloat. For a moment he is tempted to raise and let his wings spread and to flap only to see if the force is strong enough to knock her back.

"No, no I do not oh Smaug." Her hands clutch at the gold, desperate to find some sort of purchase. And he nearly laughs at the panic upon her face. She smells cleaner than a thief should be, more flowery than the metallic scent of dwarves. Still she smells unpure with a lingering scent of elf and far too many humans.

"What sort of creature are you? A thief is of no use if all they can do is stutter and stumble through their excuses."

"I…I am not a thief. I am only a hobbit curious to see if you lived up to your legends. And if you would allow me to see for myself." Smaug almost smiles at her, curious to see what exactly her reaction to his teeth will be. It's all a game which he wants to win.

"Are you afraid of me, halfling?" Smaug's tongue flicks out, settling at the base of her neck and slithering up the skin. The hobbit's nostrils flare and then her feet are stumbling across the gold. He can feel her shuddering; can feel her shaking and the pop of goose bumps across her neck. "Are you afraid now?" The hobbit blinks up at him, chest heaving as she swallows roughly. Her breaths are erratic, jagged and turns into a keening whine as he once more drags his tongue, this time over the goose bumps that mark her skin.

"Yes, yes I am." Smaug pulls his tongue away from her skin, turning away. He listens to her breathing and waits until it's almost evening out then he lets his tail flick. It nearly knocks the air from the hobbit that scrambles to grab hold of it, her breathing sharp and anxious as he brings her around to look at him.

"Then I suppose it's time for us to play." This game is his, this gold and this treasures his toys. It is a game which he intends to win and for the hobbit that shudders against his tail, goose bumps popping across her skin despite the raw heat. He intends her to become a part of his collection since she can't win.

* * *

I have never really written for this pairing...It's not one of my personal favorites so I hope I did them justice. I uhh...I don't know...Smaug got creepy in my head. This is as far as my muse took me. What happens after this, it depends where your mind goes. Mine is going towards Smaug lying her across the throne and performing cunnilingus.

Littlenori: I am always up for something between those two.


	5. Then and There

Pairing: Thorin/Sigrid

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Everyone lives, arranged marriage and asexual Thorin.

* * *

The marriage is at first only a political one, set up because there is a need for one. Thorin does what is expected of him at first. He takes her on walks, escorts her around the marketplace and asks her about her family, about herself. In return Sigrid does the same. And Thorin would be lying if he said that he fell head over heels in love with her immediately. At first he likes her. Sigrid is good company, patient and full of a gentle kindness that is hard to find in others these days. She offers him stories about her family, about children from Dale and even stories about herself which give him almost smiles and on the rare occasion belly laughter. Still he does not love her.

It's not until their wedding night that he feels almost love for her. It is a spring wedding, something that Sigrid requests. Everything goes as planned as far as the vows exchanged and the braids put into each other's hair. There is ale and wine which most everyone gets roaring drunk on and food that everyone stuffs them with until they're fit to burst. Then he finds himself in their bedroom. Thorin stares at the bed that they're now expected to share, where they are expected to consummate their marriage. Sigrid is staring at it too, her eyes nervous as she chews on her lower lip.

"I cannot do this, I am sorry." Thorin says as she prepares to undress. Sigrid stares at him with wide eyes, her hands poised over the ribbons at the waist of her dress. Thorin sighs and looks away from her, closing his eyes as she continues staring at him.

"I have never felt a desire to do such things…I tried before but I did not feel any desire. It was not…I did not find it terrifying or repulsive. I simply did not have a desire for them." Thorin says it all in a rush and then waits for the inevitable anger, laughter, mocking or questions. He braces himself as if he is going into battle. The sigh that Sigrid lets out is unexpected to say the least as her hands fall down to her side. There is a gleam of relief in her eyes as she looks at Thorin with a smile on her face.

"I heard all sorts of stories from the women and dwarrowdams helping me get ready. I do not need…Those things to make me happy. Not that you aren't a handsome dwarf, you're one of the best I have ever seen. I am perfectly capable of using my hands." She trails off and flushes, giving Thorin a somewhat bashful smile. Thorin looks towards the bed and then at her, still in her wedding dress and feet blistering from the too tight shoes. And all he can do is laugh, a deep relieved belly laugh as Sigrid flops down on the bed.

"I do not think I will be able to sleep tonight. Would you like for me to remove your braid?" Thorin asks only to stop when he gets no response. Sigrid is already asleep, eyes closed and a blissful look on her face. She will wake up tangled in the dress with her hair a knotted mess. One which they will deal with together—as a husband and wife but more like friends that are beginning a tentative courtship. Thorin plops down into the chair across from the bed, letting out a sigh of relief as Sigrid continues to sleep.

"Goodnight…" He considers calling her queen Sigrid as it will soon be her new title. But it feels too heavy and too much like a title. The words are too thick on his tongue and rough, edged without curves. Sigrid lets out a snore as she rolls over, legs tangling up in the skirt of the dress. "Goodnight Sigrid." And he would be lying if he said that he was falling head over heels in love with her right then and there. But his heart gives a small twinge and he can smile without fearing what she will say about not wanting to consummate their marriage. Tomorrow they can talk about what exactly will be. But for now he is content to lie back and close his eyes, toeing his boots off as he listens to the snoring of Sigrid.


End file.
